09-Intrusion
by Chronic Guardian
Summary: When three little artists go out for a walk, a certain someone stumbles in on their abode and samples their works. A Work starring Amber "Hype-chan" Hanekoma and Eiji "the 'F'ing" Oji set in a modern day fairytale. [Twelve Shots of Summer]


**Intrusion**

by Chronic Guardian

**A/N: Written for the Twelve Shots of Summer week 9(Fairy Tale with a Twist).**

**This time we head into a strange EU/AU starring characters from Hybrid/Mixed Feelings, a TWEWY story I'm working on (And still need to finish). We hope you'll pardon the intrusion and let them help the story anyway. At any rate, this was fun to write; so I hope you enjoy reading it. Make sure to check out the other TSoS entries this week at either our Forum's Billboard or the TSoS Community, as I'm sure there will be much amazingness to be had from our wide range of talented participating authors.**

**Best Regards,**

**-CG**

* * *

Hot. Too hot. Forgotten until this moment of terrible realization. The moment she realized she'd left the burner on.

Amber Hanekoma frantically stirred the soup in an attempt to keep it from scorching to the bottom of the pot. Little scalding flecks flung over the edge to spatter on the stovetop and her bare forearms.

"Everything alright there?"

She flinched, then did so again as another burning glob flew onto her wrist.

"Ahhhh! Uncle H!" Amber half-hissed, half-growled at the dark-haired man as she grabbed her burn, dropping her spoon into the boiling soup. She almost tried to snatch it out with her bare hands before realizing the damage such actions would entail. "No! Da—!"

"Rueban language, kiddo," her nominal uncle reminded her calmly. "If he catches you saying stuff like that..."

"Mmm? Stuff like what?" From his position in the dining room of the WildKat, Rueban Kiryu spared a questioning(and slightly annoyed) glance towards the kitchen. Uncle Sanae had invited him over for "craft day" and he was currently working on a series of quilts that Amber had more or less volunteered him for. Strangely enough, he'd adopted the task without too much fuss. Heck, he even seemed to be enjoying himself now.

"Y'know, 'rough talk'," Uncle Sanae explained as he moved his own works for the day, a set of chairs, into the restaurant lobby for inspection. "'cuss words', the kinda stuff that makes sophisticated folk like you all uppity."

The annoyance in Rueban's second glance was far more prevalent than the first. "You know, Hanekoma, when I agreed to come over for the day..."

"You didn't do it to get teased by my crazy uncle. Yeah, I know," Amber grumbled, making double sure the pot was removed from the heat before slumping back into a sigh. "Look, I promise, he grows on ya."

"Hey now!" Her uncle threw her a playful grin. "I'll have you know there are plenty of people who'd just _love_ to be where the two of you are right now. The way you're talkin', it's like you're takin' me for granted!"

Rueban leaned back in his chair and resumed stuffing fluffy down into a quilt. "Well, Neku and his group _did _seem pretty fond of you."

"Yeah, why didn't you invite them over?" Amber seconded, dividing her attention between gingerly assessing the damage to her wrist and rifling through the kitchen drawers in search of a pair of tongs to retrieve the stirring spoon from its submersible fate.

"Because you like Rueban," Uncle Sanae answered without breaking stride as he went back to retrieve another chair from his workroom. Amber promptly jerked to a halt. "And 'cuz he knows how to keep a secret."

"Neku could keep a secret," Rueban volunteered, not looking up from his work.

"Yeah? Well what about Beat?"

An awkward silence filled the room for a moment before the two teens decided it was best to admit defeat and move on. A satisfied smile that wasn't quite a smirk spread across Uncle Sanae's face. "Now there, ya see? You two are the best a secret art genius could ask for to spend the day with; deal with it.

"And, speakin' of secrets, that reminds me, I've got a little one-person-expo to observe down the street. Care to come with?"

Amber shook her head. "I've still gotta cook if we wanna eat."

"And this quilt isn't even stuffed yet," Rueban added, holding up the limp cloth covering to prove his point. "Shouldn't we finish it up first?"

"Naw, this won't take long," Uncle Sanae assured them with a grin. "We're just gonna be watchin' some guy evaluate my 'done' work. I rented a floor less than half-a-block away so we'll be able to hurry home if he doesn't turn out to be any fun."

"Hold on there, Uncle," Amber held up a hand as a suspicious look came into her eyes. "You _never_ let anyone see you as C.A.T. Why would you change that now?"

"UG modulation, kiddo," He reminded her, gathering up a few things from his desk."You two can be the visible curators who actually do the explaining. Here, I'll write you out a script even. Just get out another thing of pumpkin puree to thaw while we're out and you can make a better batch of soup for dinner after we get home."

"Fascinating," Rueban said blandly. "But, you see—"

"Yeah, okay. I could use a break," Amber relented, unceremoniously ruining Rueban's windup. "Just let me try to rescue some of this and we can go. So long as we're back before too long."

"Kiddo, we'll be back before you know it."

}{

Unaccompanied, undirected, and (other than the absolutely necessary details uninformed, Eiji Oji, Shibuya's Prince of Ennui, confidently strode down the street towards where he'd decided he was supposed to be going. Nobody was about to tell him otherwise. Besides, it wasn't like _they_ knew where the C.A.T. Conference had been set up for his sampling. He'd only skimmed the directions sent to him by the mysterious art producer sweeping the city with beautifully bizarre deviations from the mainstream world. C.A.T. was everything, from furniture, to small scale architecture, to food, to music, to clothing, to graffiti, even; there wasn't a corner of the market that didn't have his paw prints all over it. And the people wanted more.

Naturally, as a leading Social Sampler and well loved blogger, Eiji was expected to offer his opinion on the up-and-coming revolution of taste. C.A.T. had obligingly consented to the review on the condition that he not be present for the occasion. The feline producer preferred his privacy remain undisturbed and had already sworn Eiji into silence on the location of his base of operations that the Prince was now approaching. Eiji smiled to himself at the irony of it all, that the clandestine creator would choose to share his space with someone as high profile as the top blogger in all Shibuya.

Indeed, the city was his oyster. After commanding a great many turns through the concrete jungle to throw off his rabidly fanatic pursuers (not before giving them a smile, and perhaps an autograph or two of course), Eiji Oji found himself exactly where he'd decided he needed to be.

It wasn't much to look at, naturally. Just a plain old boring store front nestled into the sophisticated and individual driven line up that was Cat Street. But with a name like WildKat, Eiji could easily see through the innocent charade of humility and discern its true nature. The headquarters of C.A.T.

Of course! He grinned to himself as he once again made certain he wasn't being pursued before ducking into the outlet. Only his brilliance could uncover such a diamond in the unassuming rough. Only he, Eiji-the-"F"ing-Oji could possibly be trusted to find his way here through the sea of fool's gold outside. Making a note to compliment C.A.T. on his discernment later, Eiji surveyed the offerings left to his judgment.

Soup, unlabeled, sat on the front counter over looking the humble lounge, more akin to a simple coffee house than a revolutionary genius' personal lair. Shrugging, Eiji approached and grabbed a bowl from a stack near the soup pots before ladling out a small serving from the first one.

The serene expression his face normally assumed when concentrating on the quality of a piece involuntarily broke as the ice cold "soup" forced itself from his mouth. What was this? It tasted like a single ingredient, chilled soup without the good humor of spices to complement it! Furiously writing down his assessment on his note pad, Eiji branded the work a failure and moved to the next soup.

It was roughly the same color, which made him wary, but he could at least feel heat coming off the pot, so he decided to graciously give it a chance.

Holding in a rather unmanly scream as he discovered the second soup to be scaldingly hot (which naturally drowned out whatever virtue of flavor it might have). Simply labeling it "unpalatable", he was about to give up and move on to the next exhibit when he discovered the last offering in the food arena: a lone bowl of (surprise!) orange soup, topped with a dash of nutmeg.

_Ah! _Now _this_ looked promising! Taking up his spoon once more, Eiji bravely brought one last attempt up to his lips.

The spoon dropped from his hand (the bowl would've too, if it weren't already resting on the counter). What... what was this? Subtle sweetness playing around a hearty, savory base with just a hint of a smokey flavor playing through. Topped with a waltz of spices that kept it from being two salt-heavy while adding sophistication at the same time... it was the work of a master! He had to have more.

When the bowl had been completely emptied, Eiji dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and gave it his highest honors before finally moving on to a series of quilts laid out over some tables.

He picked up the first one to examine it. The design was handsome enough. Simple, yet elegant, a twinge of nostalgic Japanese low-tone ink painting mixed with a modern cubist design sense. Eiji nodded and wrapped it around his shoulders to test its practicality.

A disappointed scowl came to his lips. No good, it felt like C.A.T. hadn't even bothered to stuff the thing. Shrugging it off, the Prince took up the next one.

The pattern unfurled into a gaudy rainbowy vortex. Eiji quickly decided it wasn't his style and dropped it back down before checking out the remaining item in the series.

He felt his breath catch.

Lined in lace with golden roses peeking out under fields of cloudy white and gracefully tangled rose vines forming a lattice around the central image of a crown. Not only that, but he could feel the evenly stuffed lining, generously proportioned, yet light. He drew it in around himself in one final test and sighed in blissful satisfaction. It breathed in the gentle light filtering through the blinds, giving warmth without clumsily trapping it.

Oh... he liked this.

Keeping the quilt with him, he quickly wrote out his comments on the subject and hurried on to the final exhibit: a set of chairs.

Experimentally, Eiji made some quick judgments on the nature of the creations (This one, too abstract. That one, too plain) before testing them out, hoping to avoid the whole "third-times-the-charm" antics this time around. Unfortunately, they all seemed equally extreme and unsuited to his tastes. The abstract one looked fabulous, but it groaned in protest when he sat down, causing a hasty retreat. The plain one had good support, but was uncushioned and rather unfit for his princely pampering purposes. However, the third (of _course, _it was the third, he thought with a rolling of his eyes) was a perfect blend of comfort, form, and modern esthetics (the cushions had starcrossed lens flares near the head rest, not to mention an adjustable cup holder in the armrest). Still wrapped in the quilt, the Prince luxuriated into the seat and closed his eyes for a moment. C.A.T. was dangerously experimental, true. But if that led to triumphs like this, then even Eiji Oji would allow for the intrusions into his comforts.

He sighed again as his posture melted into the fabrics embrace. It was all worth it.

}{

"Sorry, kids," Sanae Hanekoma apologized sheepishly as they walked home. "No-shows aren't something I've really had to deal with, seeing as how popular C.A.T. is."

"So do you think he got lost, or did he just decide you weren't worth the time?" Rueban asked, maintaining a patronizingly interested tone of voice.

Beside him, Amber punched his arm and glared reprovingly.

"What?" he smiled benignly and shrugged. "I mean, did you see him show up? It was supposed to be Eiji Oji himself, I'm pretty sure you'd be able to recognize—oh wait, that's right. You don't have cultural context."

"I'm working on it, okay?" Amber huffed and looked away. "It's only been... hang on, did you leave the door open?"

Rueban flipped his blonde bangs. "Why are you asking me? Your Uncle was the last one out."

"Not at the expo building," Amber corrected irritably. "Look."

They all paused as the significance of the statement, and the WildKat's slightly ajar door, became fully apparent.

It wasn't long before the three of them were inside, trying to ascertain the damage done.

"See? This is why Rueban needs his own key," Amber asserted. "Because _you_ keep forgetting to lock up the.. Oh!" She clasped the empty bowl that had once contained the rescued soup. It should've been cool enough to eat by now. On second glance, she noticed the original and the stuff she was going to use to make dinner's round had also been sampled.

And not just sampled, they'd also seen fit to write out a running commentary. "'_Slightly better than street gruel_'?" She read out loud from the note left by the puree. "Someone's been into my soup!"

"Not only that, but they've thrown my quilts all over the place!" Rueban complained, picking up the blankets from their messy pile on the ground.

"_Your _quilts?" Amber asked, quirking an eyebrow. "How did they become, _your_ quilts?"

"_I_ had to stitch and stuff them, therefore—"

"Hey now! Easy, kids," Uncle Sanae soothed. "Besides, I think I found our man."

Amber perked up, "You know who did this?"

Rueban sighed over his fallen works as he laid them over the table once again. "It wasn't Beat, was it?"

"Nope," Uncle H grinned and continued to stare, hands on knees, at one of the chairs he'd finished that morning. Slowly taking the hint, Amber and Rueban came to his position. There in the chair, with mid-length blond hair splayed into a majestic halo around his strikingly regal features, was the man they'd been waiting for.

"Oh. My. Gosh... " Amber whispered hoarsely as she recognized the chair's occupant. "He _did_ get lost."

Rueban smirked. "Told you so."

"I thought you were joking!"

"I'm always serious, remember?"

"C'mon, kids," Sanae interrupted, putting his hands over their mouths without bothering to look at them. "I think he's coming around."

Blinking awake, the Prince gave them all a gracious smile and rose to his feet with dignity, though still wrapped in the quilt.

"Give my compliments to C.A.T." He told them simply, before walking out the door.

"But... my soup..." Amber mumbled, paralyzed by the lunacy of the whole situation.

"Oh, you made that?" The man paused to send a dazzling smile over his shoulder. "Never worry, young lady, I 'F'd it. 'F'd it to the stars."

And with that, Eiji Oji was gone from C.A.T.'s domain and off to spread the splendor of his presence, now with a regal quilt.

"'F'd it?" Amber barely whispered. "Is that... supposed to be a good thing?"

"Of course," Rueban sighed. "Didn't you know? With the Prince, 'F' is for 'Fabulous'".

"...I want it back."

"Yeah... me too."

"I dunno," Sanae shrugged, picking up a large wad of bills the Prince had left behind. "Maybe it's not so bad that goldilocks stumbled here instead."

"Why, so you get our credit?" Rueban questioned, unimpressed.

Sanae smiled and tossed the bills to Amber. She belatedly twitched as they bounced off her face before catching them with her hands. "You'll learn someday," he told them, a twinkle in his eye. "Life's full of unexpected intrusions. But that doesn't mean you have to hate it.

"'Sides..." He rubbed at the back of his neck and smiled out the windows. "I already know my stuff's great. I think it's nice that he liked what you did. Even when you don't want it, the strangest of circumstances can encourage you to new heights if you let 'em."

"... I still want it back."

}{

A week later, when Eiji personally showed up to purchase the chair and demand two copies be made, Sanae felt the same way.

_Fin_

* * *

**A/N: Now see, that wasn't so bad, was it? Yes, it was a little awkward to mix narrative styles, but I still think this is one of my better attempts at humor. Who knows? Maybe time will smack some sense into me.**

**Thanks for reading! As said at the top, please check out the other participating authors in the Twelve Shots of Summer, or just any story with the [Twelve Shots of Summer] tag in the summary for even better tales on a vast variety of subjects.**

**Regards,**

**-CG**


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